


Fill Every Shadow

by iniquiticity



Series: by nightlights [2]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - FickleObsessions' Vampire AU, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Badly written fight scenes, Benjamin Tallmadge is a fast-thinking and brilliant strategist who also likes to be choked, Blood, Gore, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Pickle Puts Her Money Where Her Mouth Is, Secret Badass Benjamin Tallmadge, Vampire Hunters, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:58:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7724260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iniquiticity/pseuds/iniquiticity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally, Tallmadge looks at him for a moment. His pretty blue eyes are hard. </p><p>Something’s wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fill Every Shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Help Me Out of the Shape I'm In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7614712) by [Fickle_Obsessions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fickle_Obsessions/pseuds/Fickle_Obsessions). 



> me: you know as much as i love the woobie ben tallmadge, i feel like we should make him a badass occasionally. 
> 
> me: you know what, i can fix that. because i'm the ~~president~~ writer. also, there might be more of this. not sure. so we'll leave it a one-shot for now, but maybe it won't be.
> 
> anyway, more bulging out of [Sweet Baby, I Need Fresh Blood. ](http://archiveofourown.org/series/518086) As always, you can reach me at [picklesnake on twitter](https://twitter.com/picklesnake), or [iniquiticity on tumblr.](http://iniquiticity.tumblr.com/)

He’s playing chess with Hamilton in the back of the bar when Tallmadge meanders back to over to them. He doesn’t meet either of their eyes; in fact, he seems to be making a visible effort to feign ignorance of them. Instead he watches the game for a little while - Hamilton’s face twisted into his visible scowl of effort, him affecting disinterest even as he flashes through moves in his head. 

Washington runs with it, and Hamilton, his focus on the game, doesn’t even appear to have noticed Tallmadge watching them. Washington knows Tallmadge well enough to understand that while what he likes is to be brought to heel, he’ll step up, when it’s required of him. Finally, Tallmadge looks at him for a moment. His pretty blue eyes are hard. 

Something’s wrong. 

“Do you have a long-term strategy, sir?” Tallmadge walks behind him as he speaks, studying the board again. 

“Of course I do, boy,” he says, and he tilts his head a fraction, in their shared language. _What is it?_

Tallmadge reaches over into their game and touches one of his pieces. He puts his mouth directly next to Washington’s ear, his mouth unmoving as his voice drops to a breath. “You’re being hunted. Red jacket man and blue hat woman.” 

“A man is not permitted allies in chess, sir,” Hamilton snarls, and he tilts his head in an identical manner. _Something’s wrong?_ His eyes ask, even if his mouth moves. “You can’t simply gather the pretty boys in the tavern to protect your flank. And this pretty thing is going to help you beat me? Chess doesn’t look like his expertise.” He smirks. 

“I haven’t needed any assistance in beating you, sir,” Washington replies, coolly, even as his eyes flick around the tavern. He sees the group - the woman first, in a charming blue hat and a blue dress, and the man in a fashionable red coat, cut curiously. 

“I was going to mate you in two moves before your evening’s entertainment showed up,” Hamilton snaps back. He makes an angry gesture with his hand. “Make your bedwarmer make your move for you.” 

Tallmadge frowns. “I beg your pardon, sir,” he says, “I was only studying your game.” 

“You touched his pieces!” Hamilton says, louder this time. He stands. “Study with your eyes. Move for him, and I won’t continue the game forfeit.” 

“You’re attracting attention, sir,” Washington says, calmly. He nods a minute nod and sits back in his chair. 

“Attention? I ought to have the guard called on a man who cheats at chess,” Hamilton snarls, and he bangs his hand on the chess table. A few pieces go rolling off the table and onto the floor. “Have your bedwarmer clean this up.” 

“My apologies, sir,” Tallmadge says, to both of them. He bends down and starts collecting Washington’s white pieces. 

“I’ll get my own, lest you be a thief along with a cheat.” Hamilton crawls under the table as well. Washington reorganizes his pieces as Tallmadge hands them up to him. He glances boredly around at the attention that their game has gained with the little stunt; the man and woman hunters are studiously ignoring them. 

“I’ll get you both some ale, to smooth the hurt feelings,” Tallmadge says, as he stands. Hamilton growls at him, but Washington has no doubt he’s now been informed of their potential danger. “And I shall no longer touch. I was too forward; please accept my most sincere apologies.” 

Hamilton does not accept, but it doesn’t matter. Washington watches Tallmadge go to the bar, stand next to Lafayette, and order ale. 

There are options. Washington doesn’t know how many of them the hunters think they are - there could be more hunters other than the two neatly-dressed characters interested in their murder. He’s dealt with enough of these kinds that he’s able to form a guess, though. If Tallmadge upsetting their game didn’t spook the hunters, it’s a safe assumption they don’t know he’s part of their coven. They don’t even seem to be interested in Tallmadge going to the bar and striking up a conversation with Lafayette. So if they only think him and Hamilton are the only two of the family here -- it’s a prime opportunity to take them off the board as surely as a piece in their game. 

Hunters are hard to catch and easy to spook. If they’re still here after Hamilton’s little event over the game, they must be determined. He wonders, idly, how long they’ve been tracking them. Could they not know the whole family? Or had they only seen Hamilton or himself? He had just fed last night, after all. And Hamilton had, too, he was pretty sure. 

Had they come in together? No, they hadn’t. Tallmadge been in town to pick up a new jacket, out all day. Lafayette had gone with him, because Lafayette had a keen eye for design. But he and Hamilton had arrived together. Hamilton had been bragging about chess to him. Had they been followed?

Tallmadge comes back over with beer for both of them. Washington pretends a sip; Hamilton takes a gulp. “Maybe I should play your bedwarmer,” Hamilton says, smirking, “Since he seems to have chess opinions.” 

Tallmadge demurs, because that’s what he does. 

“I think you should play, sir,” Washington says, and he stands. 

“If you insist,” Tallmadge says. They replace chairs. Washington leaves his ale on purpose. Let them think of him whatever they want. 

Tallmadge settles himself in the chair. Washington folds his hands behind his back and studies the game. It’s funny, that Tallmadge is one of the most faceted things he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing. There is, of course, the deliciously submissive Tallmadge - the one who bends under his hand, the slack face when there are strong fingers in his hair, the one who lays on the floor and goes limp and aching at Washington’s foot on his face, the one who moans when Washington makes him wait. But there is also the charming company Tallmadge, a half-decent dancer and a better piece of conversation, brilliant in his own way. And lastly, there is the tactician Tallmadge - Washington has never seen anyone who can read a room or a man better, who can figure out what a person means when they say something, and furthermore the correct way to respond. He doubted, at first. But he’s come to have a lot of confidence in Tallmadge’s hunches, and furthermore the actions he takes moving forwards on them. 

(Arnold has always thought himself good at it, and of course the man has his own strengths. But Tallmadge runs laps around him in thinking about whatever the next step forward should be. He’s seen less of Arnold, lately. Wonders if he’s leaving soon. Puts the thought to the side.) 

Tallmadge plays dumb at chess even though he beats Hamilton and even Washington regularly. He hesitates. Pretends to not know the rules. Castles wrong. Lets Hamilton take his pieces. 

“I prefer his game to yours, sir,” Hamilton says, smugly up at Washington, “You may find some other way to entertain yourself.” 

Washington nods, and he turns from the game to glance again through the room. The couple is still there, though they’ve shifted to take in more than just the chess table. So they’re suspicious of both him and Hamilton, then. Perfect. He ignores Lafayette, who’s chatting up a pretty woman at the other end of the bar. He sits himself at a recently-vacated barstool and orders a glass of wine. Takes another small sip, just to wet his lips. He closes his eyes and concentrates on his ear. The whole bar thumps with life, yes, but if he can concentrate -- he needs to separate the heartbeats, like threads. He untangles the knots. He faces away from the bar with his glass and takes in the whole tavern. 

There. Hearts racing in chests. None of the lazy beat of drinking or the easy calm of good company. No, these hearts are on a mission. Washington smirks into his wine glass. He turns back towards the game, sees Hamilton and Tallmadge coming over, Tallmadge drinking his ignored glass. 

“You forgot your bedwarmer,” Hamilton teases, “I told him he should come back to our apartment and we could teach him a few more lessons. Unless your drink consumes you, sir?” 

“No,” Washington says, and he puts down the mostly undrunk glass and pays. “Let’s go.” 

Hamilton is speaking quickly about his chess strategies. Tallmadge plays the eager student, nodding. Washington leads the way. 

When they walk past the two hunters, they fall in line between of them. Washington can hear their hearts racing with fear and excitement. They must think they’re going to rescue Tallmadge. He almost laughs. 

The three of them, and two hangers-on, leave the tavern and walk down the busy, lamplit street. Tallmadge giggles when Hamilton talks to him. Hamilton purrs, and Washington looks over his shoulder to see the men walking close. The man in the red jacket is half-hidden in a shadow. The blue dress is an alley. 

“Sire,” Hamilton says, and Washington stops and turns all the way around, “I’m thinking myself and Mr. Tallmadge might want a chess evening to ourselves. Could that be arranged?” 

“We’ll see,” he says. Hamilton never calls him anything respectful without intent. Washington folds his hands behind his back and resumes the walk up the street. Tallmadge will tell him where to go. 

“You know,” Tallmadge says, more to Hamilton than to him, “I actually live just down here. I have a set. You’re both welcome.” 

“I must demur,” Washington says, “I would disrupt the chess game of two gentlemen. But I trust that you and Mr. Tallmadge will stay in close contact, and we will have another game together.” 

“Well, that makes you better than Mr. Tallmadge,” Hamilton teases, but he folds his fingers into Tallmadge’s hands and lets the other man lead him down the alley. He bows his head in goodbye and continues down the street, listening. Are they both going to go after him, and sacrifice Tallmadge’s pretend-lamb? Or both of them to save him? Or split? 

The heartbeats get fainter as he walks. He looks into a near shop window in the dark, then stops. No, they’ve both gone after the other two. He turns back up the street as quick as he can, then ducks into the shadowy alley where Tallmadge allegedly lives. He can hear the two heartbeats, still anxiously pounding. He thanks the version of himself from two hours ago that decided on the black cloak and not the light grey one with the embroidery that Lafayette insisted on. With the cloak, he’s hard to see in the dark alley, especially as they move from the lamplights. 

Next to the heartbeats, a sweet moan catches his ear. Tallmadge. Washington's careful to avoid making any noise on the street with his boots, and bends his head, trying to make himself smaller. 

“Oh, shall we play chess, bedwarmer?” Hamilton teases. They come into view, barely visible in the shadow. Tallmadge against the wall, Hamilton giving him a messy kiss, all wandering hands. He can see the blue dress in the alley. He thinks about it for a moment, and then melts into the brick. It’s Tallmadge’s plan, after all. He so rarely gets the opportunity watch the secret battle tactician Tallmadge at work. 

The woman appears out of the shadow, swinging a deadly-sharp blade that would be more than capable of taking Hamilton’s head from his shoulders. 

Only Tallmadge reaches over Hamilton, meets her eyes, grabs the offending wrist, and breaks it with an audible snap of bones. The blade clatters to the ground. The woman’s face goes pale with perhaps pain but more so recognition that she’s been tricked, and she screams. Hamilton turns between them and seals his hand over the woman’s face, and then he snaps his head against hers with an audible _clunk_. She drops. 

Where’s the -- 

Washington hears the sound of a body hitting the ground nearer to the entrance to the alley. 

“What a charming evening it’s turned out to be,” comes Lafayette’s voice, from over his shoulder. 

“We should keep this one,” Tallmadge says to Washington, when he steps out of the shadow. He indicates the unconscious hunter between them. “Could be other groups after us. I think we should move on.” 

Lafayette’s shoes click on the cobblestones. He’s holding the dried corpse of the man in the red jacket, and he dumps it inelegantly on the street next to the unconscious woman. Then, he leans down and starts going through the man’s pockets.

“Last time we were hunted, this was only the beginning,” Tallmadge says, frowning at the unconscious woman and the dead man next to her. “What do you think, sire?” 

“Dear God,” Lafayette says, before he can answer. He hands a tiny, unfolded piece of paper to Washington, who studies it in the dark. 

Their present address. 

Washington sighs, watches Lafayette pull the man’s jacket from his corpse. “Benjamin. You can learn what you want to learn from her?” 

“I don’t think it should be a problem,” Tallmadge says, mildly. Their current residence does have a dingy basement, which should be perfect for Tallmadge’s hobby other than chess and arguing with Arnold. The boy bends down, takes the neckcloth off the corpse, and stuff it into the woman’s mouth, wrapping it twice around her head. 

“I like this town,” Hamilton mutters, resentfully. 

“You’ll find another one you’ll like where we aren’t being hunted,” Washington replies, sharply. 

“I like this jacket,” Lafayette says, and throws it over his arm. 

Tallmadge picks up the unconscious woman and gives her broken wrist a tug, and her eyes snap open. Washington catches her gaze, feels the power within him surge. Oh, there’s resistance - he wouldn’t have her in an instant, she’s been trained against his power, and maybe in a different circumstance she could use the opportunity to take him down - but it’s only a matter of time, with Tallmadge holding her arms behind his back. He burrows through her defenses. Finds her will. It resists him, of course, but he’s long since learned the many ways you can manacle a human will without shattering it entirely. 

“Come with us, my dear,” he says, softly, and offers her his arm. She takes it, uncoordinated, her eyes out of focus and her movements awkward and delayed. “You’ve had far too much to drink tonight, and I think we’d best let you sleep that off.” Tallmadge unfolds the neckcloth from her mouth and leaves it on the corpse. 

The screams he hears in the corner of his mind where he holds her will get no further. Beautiful. 

She nods, head almost lolling. They walk out of the alley and over her friend’s body, and down the street. Hamilton lead, and him, and the woman, and Tallmadge, and Lafayette in the back. 

“How did you know?” Washington asks, softly, as Hamilton hails them a carriage. 

“I saw someone outside, a few days ago,” Tallmadge says, “I’ve been keeping an eye on them. But I was waiting until they moved first.” 

“Very good,” he says. Tallmadge grins up at him, the same shy grin. He reaches with his unoccupied hand and draws his thumb over the line of the young man's cheekbone. Tallmadge leans into it, as willing as he always has been. “I hope you might find some time for me, after you’ve spent some time with our guest.” 

“Always, sir,” Tallmadge says, as earnest as only he can be.


End file.
